


Washed Away

by Sermocinare



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathing/Washing, Fluff, M/M, pretty curls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sermocinare/pseuds/Sermocinare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac had a stressful day at work, Enjolras decides to help him relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washed Away

**Author's Note:**

> Unapologetic fluff

Enjolras knows that something is wrong the moment Courfeyrac walks through the door, and it's not just because Courfeyrac should have been home an hour ago. It's in the sound of his footfalls, the tension in his shoulders and the slight scowl on his lover's face.

„Shit day?“ Enjolras says, putting away his papers.

Courfeyrac sighs, nods, and lets himself slump down on the couch next to Enjolras, running his hands through his tangled curls. 

Wrapping both arms around Courfeyrac's shoulders, Enjolras pulls him in so that Courfeyrac can rest his head on Enjolras' shoulder.

„Do you want to talk about it?“

Courfeyrac makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a defeated sigh: „M. Caron is on my case again because according to him, I take too long to close a file. But they're not files, Enjolras,“ here, Courfeyrac pulls back, looking at Enjolras with a spark of fire in his eyes, „they're people. And they deserve that I do my best for them. And sometimes, that means spending a bit more time on a case.“

Enjolras nods, his arms still around Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac loves his job, loves helping those people, families, kids, even if it brings him face to face with the worst humanity has to offer. The one thing that regularly sours Courfeyrac's mood is the all the bureaucratic red tape he is up against, and his boss who seems to put more value on said red tape than on the people they should be trying to help.

Enjolras makes a sympathetic noise and pulls Courfeyrac back against him: “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Hm. Not sure.”

Enjorlas gently rubs Courfeyrac's shoulder. Courfeyrac's muscles feel tense and coiled up like a metal spring, and well, that, at least, is something Enjolras can help with.

Nuzzling into Courfeyrac's hair, Enjolras says: “How about I run you a nice, hot bath?”

“Sounds good.” Courfeyrac chuckles softly: “But only if you join me.”

Now that sounds encouraging. If Courfeyrac is back to a bit of teasing flirtation, it means he's relaxing a little already.

“Sure I will. And I'll add bubbles, too.”

Ten minutes later, Courfeyrac is standing in the bathroom, laughing.

“I guess I overdid it with the bubble bath,” Enjolras is saying with a slightly pained expression, looking at the mountain of foam that is looming over and partially spilling out of the tub. 

“A bit, yes,” Courfeyrac says, and pulls Enjolras in for a short kiss. “I guess we'll just have to make the best of it.” 

With that, Courfeyrac scoops up a handful of foam and blows it in Enjolras' direction. 

“Oh, that's how you want to do this, huh?” Enjolras grins and throws a handful of foam at Courfeyrac. 

Five minutes later there is foam everywhere, but Courfeyrac is laughing, eyes bright with that light that had first drawn Enjolras in. 

“How about we, oh, actually get into the tub? I mean, there isn't much foam left on top of it,” Enjolras says and slides into the bath, opening his arms and gesturing for Courfeyrac to join him. “Lean back against me. I want to wash your hair.”

Courfeyrac obeys, sighing happily once he's leaning back into Enjolras' arms, with Enjolras nuzzling in behind his ear: “Oh yes please. That always feels so nice.”

Reaching out to the side, Enjolras picks up a large cup that is standing on the table next to the tub and begins to wet Courfeyrac's hair. He can't help but feel happy and a bit proud of how much Courfeyrac likes this. The first time Enjolras had offered, Courfeyrac had been quite tense and twitchy, at least until a few minutes later. Apparently, having his hair washed by his mother when he was little had been quite the ordeal for poor Courfeyrac. Enjolras had quickly proven that he knew what he was doing, though, having dealt with a head full of natural curls himself for all of his life. 

Not even two minutes later, Courfeyrac is practically purring in Enjolras' arms. 

“Are you starting to feel better?” Not that the question really has to be asked. 

“Oh yes,” Courfeyrac says, keeping his eyes closed, “which of course doesn't mean you should stop, sweetheart.”

“Don't worry. I won't stop unless you start falling asleep. I don't want you to drown. Or,” Enjolras ads with a chuckle, “I get the urge to wash something entirely different.”

Even though Courfeyrac has his back to him, Enjolras knows exactly what kind of smile is on his lover's face right now: “Now that sounds very relaxing. You should definitely do that. Later.”

Enjolras gives a short laugh: “I think I will.” Then, he cranes his neck to kiss Courfeyrac's cheek: “Later. Right now, I think both of us are happy with what I'm doing up here.”


End file.
